Make Believe
by madelinear
Summary: Ummm... interesting little scene I cooked up. Satine and Christian eat something, joint hallucination. No, it's not what you think. Just read it. Please.


Make-believe  
By: Sugar Princess  
  


  
  
Disclaimer: Neither of the two characters belong to me ... and the song 'How can love survive" belong to the Roger and Hammerstein people from 'The Sound of Music'  
Dedication: To all my girls in the Red Room: Camie, Celita, Karita, and Hannita!  
  
  
  
"So, the lovers' secret meeting in the gazebo scene is finished?" asked Satine, coming behind Christian and wrapping her arms around his neck.  
  
Christian finished typing with a flourish and reached behind him to draw her closer. "Yup. Scene 3, Act 2 is done."  
  
"Finally." Breathed Satine, moving to sit on his lap. "You've only been working on it for three days."  
  
Christian looked at her, aghast. "Oh, well, excuse me, Miss Satine. The muses were not obeying the old crack-and-whip routine. I'm sorry, next time the act will take but two hours, as mademoiselle wishes," he said in a sarcastic tone.  
  
"See that they do." Commanded Satine in an imperious tone. The both held the facade for a moment, glaring at one another, before they both burst into laughter.  
  
Satine slid off his lap and moved towards the kitchen, picking at the remains of the dinner Toulouse had left them. "You know, Toulouse is a surprisingly good cook."  
  
"Yeah, if he doesn't kill you first." Christian said, eating a carrot, then clutching his hands to his neck and falling back.  
  
Satine kicked him lightly with a dainty foot. "Oh, good. He's dead. Now I can ransack his apartment and disappear with all his worldly goods."  
  
Christian cracked open an eye at her, pouting. "And here I thought you'd be sad."  
  
Satine put a hand to her forehead and dipped into a ladylike swoon, winding up on the floor next to him.  
  
"Yes, darling. I would positively perish without the affection you lavish upon me." Her voice took on a cultured, snotty tone. "Without your presents and trinkets how could I survive."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure I have enough money in the back to support you, dearest. You'll never have to work again. I'll be sure to remember you in my will."  
  
"Not that I need it, of course." Satine said, raising her nose a trifle, which looked quite comical, being as it was that they were lying on the floor.   
  
"Of course."  
  
"I'm perfectly wealthy myself."  
  
Christian nodded seriously, standing up and offering a hand to Satine.  
  
"Of course. That last husband of yours- whose death was so tragic- left you quite a little bit didn't he?"  
  
Satine smiled demurely, smoothing down her dress. "Yes. Poor Henry ... axed in the middle of the night. Such a- ahem- tragedy." She coughed daintily.  
  
"And you weren't caught. Incredible."  
  
"Do you insinuate it was ME?" asked Satine, horrified.  
  
"I insinuate nothing, dearest."  
  
"Fantastic will, though. I got everything." She sighed. "Poor me..."  
  
"Yes, your poor husbands always die on the honeymoon. What a horrid coincidence." Christian shook his head and clucked his tongue. "If I didn't know you so well, my pet, I'd say you were cursed."  
  
Satine bat her eyelashes innocently. "Me? Cursed. No." she pouted. "It's my marriages." She sighed dramatically. "Seven of them! Dead!"  
  
"What a pity." Christian said, nodding sympathetically.  
  
Satine nodded and sniffled. "Yes. I've worn black too long. And I look a fright in black."  
  
Christian snorted at the last comment.  
  
"But," Satine took his hands. "You'll leave me your fortune, won't you?" she smiled at him with incredibly false hero-worship.  
  
Christian moved away from her. "Yes. The diamond mine-" he paused to let Satine to shriek. "The yachts ... the country house... Mamma's wedding ring."  
  
Satine looked down at the imaginary ring on her finger. "And such a fabulous rock, too."  
  
"Of course, it should go to my wife. But if I'm dead, who cares?" Christian laughed in the annoying way the rich and conceited did.  
  
"Coraline won't care." Satine agreed.  
  
"Such a pity I had to marry her. What a waste of," Christian flashed a bright, fake smile. "My charm."  
  
"And your wealth." Satine said, taking his arm. "Wealth like that, darling, should stay in the family, not go to some poor ladyship."  
  
"I always said I was too good for Coraline."  
  
"And I agree." Satine said placatingly.  
  
"Which is how I found you, dearest. Running away from Coraline and her endless whinings and vapors..."  
  
"Coraline would faint if she knew about us!" she cried dramatically.  
  
"Coraline would faint if she knew where I was! On her father's yacht, with another woman!"  
  
"Coraline would simply faint at the very insinuation!"  
  
"Coraline faints every afternoon at four." Christian deadpanned. "Quite boring, actually. She just slides out of her chair. 'There goes Coraline again,' someone says, and someone picks her up, and someone brings her to her chambers, and I don't have to see her again until supper. It works out quite well."  
  
"Surely you must worry for your wife's health." Said Satine.  
  
"Not at all! Old Coraline's as strong as an ox. She'll outlive me and my carrot poisoning." He suddenly looked at Satine. "YOU didn't poison me, did you?"  
  
"Me?" asked Satine with wide eyes. "Never! Why would I speed up your death so that I could get everything you owned? Nonsense, darling."  
  
"How much longer do I have, love?" asked Christian.  
  
Satine let out a worried sigh. "Not much longer, I'm afraid. We're just going to have to make the best of the rest of our brief time together."  
  
Christian smiled and slid his hands around her waist and pulled her to him. He moved to kiss her when-  
  
"Ah, ah, ah. No. Do you intend to spend your last minutes on earth lived in squalor?"  
  
"Yes." deadpanned Christian. "That was exactly my intention."  
  
Satine moved away. "I shall miss you, my darling. I shall miss our unconventional romance."  
  
"Whatever do you mean, my love?"  
  
"In all the famous love affairs the lovers have to struggle  
In garret rooms away upstairs the lovers starve and snuggle  
They're famous for misfortune which they seem to have no fear of  
While lovers who are very rich you very seldom hear of.  
No little shack do you share with me  
We do not flee from a mortgagee  
Nary a care in the world have we  
How can love survive?  
You're fond of bonds and you own a lot  
I have diamonds and several yachts  
Plenty of nothing we haven't got!  
How can love survive?"  
  
Christian put his arm on her shoulder.   
  
"No rides for us on the top of a bus in the face of the freezing breezes  
You reach your goals in your comfy old Rolls or in one of your Mercedeses!  
Far, very far off the beam are we  
Quaint and bizarre as a team are we  
Two millionaires with a dream are we  
We're keeping romance alive  
Two millionaires with a dream are we"  
  
"We'll make our love survive..." they agreed.  
  
"No little cold water flat have we  
Warmed by the glow of insolvency  
Up to our necks in security  
How can love survive?" sang Christian.  
  
"How can I show what I feel for you?" crooned Satine, flinging herself into his arms dramatically.  
"I cannot go out and steal for you  
I cannot die like Camille for you  
How can love survive?"  
  
Christian nodded and pointed to his imaginary broker.  
  
"Us millionaires with financial affairs  
Are too busy for simple pleasure  
When you are poor it is toujours l'amour  
For l'amour all the poor have leisure!"  
  
"Caught in our gold plated chains are we  
Lost in our wealthy domains are we  
Trapped by our capital gains are we  
But we'll keep romance alive."  
  
"Trapped by our capital gains are we..." sang Christian. They both looked at one another and smiled.  
  
"We'll make our love survive!" He took her and dipped her like he had when they first met, so very long ago. The two faded into a kiss, and with it went the facade.  
  
"That was interesting." said Satine.  
  
Christian nodded. "Yes. I think Toulouse laced our drinks with absinthe."  
  
"The sad thing is, I think that was nothing but our own silliness. And do you mind standing me up straight? This is quite uncomfortable."  
  
Christian did stood her up. "So..." he started. "Who is this Camille?"  
  
"Oh, a famous courtesan from... oh, a long time ago. That was in the 40's. She fell in love ... and then she died. It was horrible. Her name was Marguerite."  
  
"Ah." Christian nodded. "Alright. Interesting. That's my history lesson for today."  
  
Satine nodded and hid a smile. "Let's keep that little ... um ... performance to ourselves, shall we?"  
  
Christian nodded. "Yeah. Sure. I never loved you, anyway."  
  
Satine stood there, mouth hanging open in the most unladylike fashion. "Ooh, I'm going to get you for that."  
  
"Try to."  
  
"Why you-" Christian broke into a run, with Satine in hot pursuit.  
  
The bohos, having been lying on their stomachs and watching it all, looked at one another and smiled.  
  
  



End file.
